Bloody sweet
by Naomii386
Summary: "I found the fact Minho could be annoying and funny at the same time somewhat amusing." Written for one of my friends, it's a shortie, a two-shot, starring Minho, an OC, and some other well-known characters. It'll be a bit of a fluff and has no deep, hidden meaning, I just felt like writing. Please, r&r! :)
1. Chapter 1

**Hey!**

**So this is a silly thing I wrote for one of my friends' request. She said I should try the TMR fandom and she was right, it's awesome! Anyway, it's going to be a two-shot because I'm too tired to write the second half yet but I'm interested in your opinion!**

**This is unbeta'd.**

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><p>I was awakened by slow, discreet movement right behind me and a sudden whiff of cold. With the lingering effects of adventures on dreamland still dulling my mind and making me nearly unable to think sensibly, I managed to recognize someone standing up from the bed I laid in on my side. If it could've been called a bed at all – I mean, it was a sleeping bag spread out on a rack made of haulm and branches but it was the closest thing we had to a real bed.<p>

"Have a nice run, _sweetie_," I sang, my words muffled by sleepiness and the fabric of the prickly rug functioning as a blanket. I heard zipping and rustling sounds, implying the other person was dressing up, getting ready for yet another day spent working hard.

"It's rude to interrupt my boredom-attack with your cheery felicitations," the voice said, hoarse with the night's silence and the steady groaning he performed before going to sleep. I giggled at the sarcastic tone he hit – it was so like him!

"I bet there was a time when you were sweet 'n innocent," I sighed dramatically as I opened my eyes only to have my gaze meet with the sight of an ugly, dark purple colored wallpaper rotting down the wall.

"Ain't nobody has time to be 'sweet'," he answered, nearly spat the last words.

I found the fact Minho could be annoying and funny at the same time somewhat amusing.

"… Or no, maybe there wasn't such time. Yeah, sure you're sassy since birth."

I felt a large, coarse hang being laid on my head from above and hot breath tickling the tiny little hair on my neck. It brought up memories of last night – moans, trusts, pants and _oh, yes_ – which sent a pleasured shiver down my spine. "It was nice to chat with you. Now, go back to sleep," he pushed my head down into the pillow with a swift motion, beguiling me out of another giggle.

"Shuck-face," I half groaned, half laughed.

"Pixy."

"Jerk."

"Slinthead."

"Yeah, I love ya, too."

"Mph."

A loud 'thump' and a few creaks in hurried manner signaled Minho has left, shut the door behind him and scuttled away to spend the next ten hours or so running up and down in the maze. I pulled the blanket over my head and tried to swim in the smooth aftereffect of sleeping. I only had a few minutes (fifteen at top) before Newt would come, banging on the door, telling me to 'get my bloody arse up'. After I tossed and tumbled in the bed and enjoyed the enduring scent of Minho for about five minutes I tossed the rug off of me with a groan and forced my limbs to move.

# # #

A leisure yawn escaped my mouth as I slowly made my way down the stairs of the Homestead. As soon as I met the first Glader a cheery smile curled up the edges of my lips, waving and greeting everyone I met. Smell of freshly cooked bacon wreathed around the Glade, waking up all the guys ready to overrun the breakfast tables like a starving army of teenagers. I wasn't a cockney but the way some of them tucked in their chow made my off my oats. Like, seriously. They could be bloody disgusting. But Frypan asked me to lend him a hand in the Kitchen since one of his cooks, Bert burned his hand with hot oil and haven't quite recovered yet, like, he couldn't move his bloody arm, let alone be helpful at this rush hour.

"Good morning, sunshine," Frypan welcomed me, tearing away his gaze from the huge oven where the bacons were cooked to spare me a glance before looking back. "I have a fun project for you, shankie, to do!"

"I'm _bursting_ with joy," I rolled my eyes mockingly as I tied the strings of the once-white apron now drenched with oil, spices and sauce-patches behind my back. The air in the kitchen was humid and heavy, I felt grateful for deciding to wear my hair up.

Frypan let out a husky laugh. "What's up with that attitude? You ain't lettin' Minho get on you, now, are ya?"

"I'm sure half the shanks heard how Minho got _all over her_ the night before," said the disgustingly arrogant voice, too well known by all the Gladers to leave questions about the owner.

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, calming my nerves, before I turned to face Gally. I forced a honeyed expression on my face, not quite relaxed enough to argue with him. "What d'ya want, Gally?"

"A bit of silence at night would be _marvelous._"

I pressed my lips together so tightly they became a straight, thin line. How I _hated_ this piece of klunk!

"I sleep deep as dead, man, and I'm closer to 'em than you are," Frypan said, stepping between Gally and me. Of course he tried to cover it with placing fresh bacon on the counter but it was bloody plain. "A day spent workin' makes you deaf at night. Maybe you should work harder."

_Ouch. I guess Gally just got totally burnt._

His face did remind me of a fried meat – it got so red I bet he got his stack blown. I felt an invincible urge to grin in triumph but I adjudged I better not. Newt always said 'we must stick together' and that 'the only thing that matters is that we all bloody have each other'. In most cases I agreed with him – there was no room for personal conflicts, doesn't matter how we couldn't stand the other or how Gally was a shucktard slinthead. He really was. But I had to admit he was a good Builder and that was the first thing to take in consideration before beating him half dead with an oven. He did do something good, however – he gave me and Minho plenty of things to talk about. We spent a lot of time planning Gally's murder. It was harmless fun, only theoretically speaking. Well… At least on my part. Minho on the other hand… He was a smart guy. He wouldn't risk hurting someone who builds where he sleeps. Not seriously, at least.

Gally being a prick or not, I tried to avoid his rude comments and always made an attempt to let his words flew by my ear, unheard. Yet now he was crossing that line again, the line my relationship with Minho laid behind.

Since I was the only girl every laying foot on the Glade, my position was slightly complicated at first. I was one of the oldest residents; I came up together with Newt. Nick, who was the leader back then, had a theory saying Newt and I were twins or siblings at least. True, we looked similar – really pale skin, dirty blond hair, big eyes, but the color of our eyes was different. Newt had really dark, deep brown eyes which seemed black sometimes. Mine was a light yellowy-browny-green thing and only pretty when the sun shone brightly. They seemed gold then but otherwise I'd have killed for Newt's. Seriously, he only had to look and all my concerns or anxiety melted away at his puppy face.

Khm, yeah, back to the subject.

All the boys accepted me as one of them and knew how far they could go but there were others, a few who didn't appreciate me, a girl standing higher on the social ladder than they were and also hated Minho for 'getting the only chick'. They weren't stupid thus they remained silent when Minho was around, knowing well he could smash them into the ground without straining himself but they horned in on me every now and then.

It was one of those times and I was happy I had Frypan around.

Gally said something but his words were dumbfounded by a sudden 'pop' coming from the oven. Frypan gave Gally a last warning glance before he stepped back to the cooker.

"Can I help you with anything else?" I asked Gally with an angelic and clearly fake smile in order to mock him. It worked. He groaned wrathfully and turned around scone-hot, dashing into Chuck in the process. The chubby little boy lost his balance and fell to his bum, squeaking painfully.

"Bug off!" Gally snapped at him, and then hurried out, swearing to himself.

Frypan stepped over the boy lying on the ground twice, not even looking at him. "Get up before somebody trips over you," he said casually. The boy got up to his feet, his movements miserable and pitiable. I watched with a heavy heart as he scooted outside shamefully. I felt sorry for the poor boy but had I taken him under my protecting wings, it'd have been even worse for him. I had job to fulfill, anyways – Frypan put a whole pile of dirty dished in front of me.

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><p><strong>How's it so far? Please leave a review!<strong>

**If any of you is interested, leaving her nameless was intentional. I've written it that way so any of you can 'relate' or something. Also, the reason why I think the WICKED sent Newt and her up together was to test if twins do better together. Or something like that.**

**Second part coming soon! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey!**

**So I've finally finished it. The whole story started out like 'oh, okay, I'll just write some fluff and around seven hundred words' and in the end I had seven thousand! Hehe. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!**

**This is unbeta'd, so it might contain spelling and grammar mistakes.**

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><p>"Oi!" The severally packed chocolate cookie flew, writing a nice arch in the air before it landed on the wooden picnic table in front of Chuck. He looked at the cookie in a shocked manner before his big and childishly pellucid eyes met mine. I sat down next to him with an absent-minded smile. The morning rush was over, most of the Gladers went to work their butt off while those having a break day (like me) chilled out somewhere.<p>

"It's… for me?"

"Sure, Greenie. Eat it before Frypan sees it – ya know how he's with others stealin' his stuff."

The way his eyes lit up with soul-swelling warmness somehow made my motherly instincts, hidden deep, go up in flames. He was only four years or so younger than me and still I felt that instinctual, insuperable, deep-seated need to hug him and protect this poor blighter from, well, everything. I bridled myself and kept looking at the Eastern Door where Minho disappeared a couple of hours ago. I stopped fearing for his well-being or wondering where he might be a long time ago – I was worried but if I would let anxiety take over me I might as well just bolt myself in the Blood Houses and be the Phantom of the Chicken-Pens.

Sounds of hammering, jigging and shouting echoed inside the high, sweltering walls, filling my soul with a strange snug feeling. No wonder we had a family at one point but right now fifty infantile teenage boys meant family to me and a glade placed in a stone-cage was my home. A little depressing, innit?

"Do you think they gonna find somethin' today?" Chuck's voice intoned wonderingly as he munched on the cookie, little brown crums fell as he spoke. "I mean it's been a while since the Runners started mappin' the maze, right? How long have you been here, by the way?"

I shrugged. "More than two years. I was one of the first to come up along with Newt. There was Nick right after Alby, George (he died before you came up), three other fellow and Minho. He came two weeks prior us."

Chuck seemed to lose countenance at my words. "Two weeks?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "In slightly less than the first year the Box provided a Newbie every two weeks. I don't know why the Creators decided to change the frequency."

Chuck gave a humming sound and chewed on the remaining of the cookie silently. I was tired and it was starting to show in my way of speaking – it was slow, every words measured and languid. I stood flabbergasted in front of Minho's stamina, he was the last to fall into the embrace of dreams and the first to tear himself away only to run all day.

"Can I ask you somethin'?"

"Go ahead."

"Are the others hatin' me because they think Nick's death is my fault?"

His casual tone didn't take all the sharp edge of his words. I perked up my head, eyes radiating pure awe at how simply he asked his question despite the bloody serious subject. It was astoundingly straight-forward. It took me a good half a minute to speak again.

"They don't hate you," I disagreed weakly, shaking my head firmly when I saw Chuck's 'c'mon' face. "They don't! Okay, maybe they're less friendly with ya than they are usually but it's just… Everything came together. You're a Greenie. You're standing on the lowest step of the ladder. Plus, Nick's death was… unsettling. It'll get better, a new Greenie will come up in a week and they'll ease up on you."

"Yeah, sure," Chuck snorted. I pinched his shoulder. "Ow!"

"They will, trust me and don't be such a klunkhead! The first time is hard for everyone. When I got here Minho practically hated me, did ya know that?"

Chuck's eyes widened as a teasing grin appeared on his face. "Slim it!"

I laughed proudly – he was getting used to Glader slang quite quickly. I figured out at least a quarter of it along with Newt so yeah, I was proud when someone used it. "I'm not kiddin'! The first time I met him and gave him my hand he looked at it, disgusted, and stated I smell like unicorn klunk."

Chuck was practically laughing his butt off. "Unicorn klunk?"

"Yeah. Ya know, intoxicatingly and chokingly sweet but still shit." I suppressed a loud titter as the image of Minho's grimace popped up in front of my mind's eye. I still grinned like a fool whenever I thought about it. "It got better with time, and so will your position, you just have to be self-aware and stand up for yourself. Ya know, givin' the respect to the others but you can't let them think you don't care about yourself. On my second week here, when Newt was already a runner, Alby said I should stay in the Kitchen, statin' I'm ain't no boy, can't risk rushin' me into danger. I insisted goin' with Newt and Minho to the Maze. Eventually, I convinced them."

Chuck looked outright surprised, his small eyes wide with shock. "You've been in the maze? On your _second week_?"

I scratched my nape awkwardly. "Yeah. That was at the very beginning, remember? The 'no Newbie allowed in the bloody maze' rule was made after the first boy was killed, maybe three months after our arrival. Anyway, Minho always said how I was a stupid little girl with stupid thoughts and that I was no good, a little scallywag who will plough the sands. I desperately wanted to prove him wrong so I fought goin' with him out. He was grumpy and always passed remarks on me. Whatever I did, he criticized it. 'You're too slow!', 'your instructions are of no use!', 'your mind is all abroad!', 'you need to rest too much!'; it wasn't very pleasing. By the time we stopped to have lunch I was ready to pummel him to death with my bag."

Chuck giggled – I guess he visualized me beating Minho with a handbag. "It's hard to imagine you two being so hateful toward each other," he confessed, looking to the side absently.

"Minho can be a real prick," I laughed somewhat humorlessly. "So! We were sittin' in a wall's shadow; eyein' each other with deathly glares, when I suggested we should climb the ivy, see where we are. The maze's mappin' was just started so we had a lot to explore. Minho said he'll do it, statin' I was too clumsy. I disagreed, of course. Not mindin' him already climbin' up, I got hold of a spindle and started to climb up, hurriedly, not payin' attention…"

"And you fell?" Chuck asked without thinking. His face flushed red when he realized he cut in.

"And I fell," I nodded with a reassuring smile. "My ankle got splayed and my back hurt like hell from the impact. Minho was furious, of course, he said if I'm not able to keep up with him he'll leave me there. I was barely able to move, the only thing I could do was to stumble along the wall, my whole body quivering in pain but I forced myself to lay a dullin' gossamer over it and focus on gettin' out. It was bloody clear I won't make it, and Minho left, just like he promised."

Chuck furrowed his eyebrows, his chubby, dumpling face full of concern. "But he did come back, right?"

"No, you're talkin' to my bloody vengeful ghost. Of course he came back!" I rolled my eyes but tried to cover it with looking away. I didn't want Chuck to think I was tired of him and his questions. "He was simply curious whether I gave up or not. I didn't, he saw that, and came back after, like, ten minutes. He said 'you're one klunk of a Runner', rolled his eyes and lifted me up. He carried me for an hour until we got back to the Glade. I wasn't allowed to be a Runner anymore – one of my ligament tore and even now it starts hurtin' after a time if I strain it – but I got Minho convinced I can be a stayer. We've gone quite a long way since then, both in our relationship and the Glade's order."

"So that's what I have to do, then? Do somethin' reckless and the others will like me?" Chuck's voice was dripping with sarcasm and disbelief.

I grimaced impatiently and hit him on the shoulder, earning a painful yelp from him.

"Don't stretch my bloody words, would ya?" I retorted, my voice a bit crude but my half-grin softened the image. "No, of course not. Just… Don't lurk in the shadows, waitin' for someone to discover you, because it's not gonna happen. Do things in your own way! Would you pick up on a shimmerin' puny star givin' subdued light? No. The brightly, luminous star you pay attention to, the effervescent, argent-silver, sublime star, Chuck. Otherwise, you die one day with no one missin' or rememberin' you."

"You're so confidence-raising!" Chuck sighed, supporting his fatty cheeks on his palms. I rubbed the bridge of my nose wearily. I wasn't very good at motivation speaking but I did my best to cheer him up. It wasn't a simple task, given I was the only one who actually tried to be nice to him and we didn't spend much time together. True, Chuck spoke a lot to guy's standard and he was very-very young and sorta useless due his non-trained complexity. Still, he was one of us, scared and alone, thus the other Gladers' malignancy was needless and gross.

My attempt to strike back was blown away by two male voices shouting from the Deadheads. The boys working close out in the field looked up first, all eyes staring at the mist wrapped around the woods. The whole Glade stopped for a minute, like some shucked-up wax-doll panoptic; even the euphonious clenching of the chickens died away. Soon enough two tall and broad-shouldered figure evolved from the illusory shadows – it was Alby and Newt, and given their red faces and angry voices could've been heard from this fair, they were arguing.

"What's going on?" Chuck asked aloud, craning his neck to have a better view over the forming crowd.

"Mommy and daddy are arguin'," I answered, not even looking at Chuck as I measured the situation's solemnity. One of the rules was the one saying you must never hurt another Glader – arguments, however, were not forbidden. They were pretty common, actually, but it was better for the stronghold of the authority if the people didn't see the big heads standing against each other, putting sand in the machines of unity.

I stood up hostily, eyes never leaving the frame of my brother, and patted Chuck on the back. "Look, I better get goin' now before those two kill each other. The important thing is, you must tell yourself constantly that you're a badass wag from Hell and no one can shuck with you." I gave his shoulder a last, calming and supporting squeeze before I headed to the boys.

"…order, Newt! That's what's important!"

"What why, did I hurt anyone?! Don't be a bloody shuckface and let it slim."

"Do I have to remind you who's the leader?"

"No, I'm shucking aware."

"Do you think you'd be a better one?"

"No, damn it! You're such a hissy nowadays…"

Alby stepped closer to Newt, my brother towering over him with a head and still, Alby seemed to own him. The move was nearly threatening, I heard shocked gasps coming from the boys still watching.

Fortunately, I arrived just in time.

"Hey, hey, hey! Boys!" I stepped between them, laying a palm flat to each Gladers' muscled chest. I cant say I wasn't afraid a bit because I was. But I knew they weren't mindless beasts and they were only a little tensed. That's it. "Who the dash has stolen the other's toy?"

Alby looked at me, his nearly black irises burning with anger and spite. I took my hand off his chest immediately. "Not your concern. Go back to work."

"I'm havin' a break-day."

"Then you better go enjoy it before I cut it in half." I was taken aback by his hissing-like voice. I had no idea what I've done but I regretted I even got up in the morning – the bucolic, inviting image of the not-so-comfy bed seemed like a faint dream. Tempting but far-far away.

"Slim it, Alby," Newt snarled at the older boy, his eyes just as fierce as Alby's. Then he looked at me. "You should really go, though. It was nothing."

"I don't want to seem demanding or anything but the others are wacthin'," I pointed at the Gladers who winced and pretended to be busy with work when their leader and the second-in-command looked at them.

Alby growled, frustrated. "I hate girls," he muttered then left with long, heavy steps. He 'accidentally' bumped into my shoulder as he passed by me, the force nearly making me keel over.

I looked after him with my eyebrows furrowed in incomprehension.

"What's his problem?" I shook my head. Newt shrugged.

"He's getting' more and more stroppy every bloody day," he stated, looking to the side. I narrowed my eyes – in the past few years I've learned this and that about boys all together and separately. For example, I knew guys loved to wander around naked – not to show themselves to me (except a few cases) but because they just felt like it. Boys never asked for help or admitted their failure. They were contender control-freaks, perverted and rarely serious. It was multiplied exponentially with shanks like Minho, Gally or Alby, who all thought they were The One, the manliest man who controls all, the Alpha Male.

What I knew about Newt was, however, the fact he was a terrible liar. I could read him like an open book and now he wanted to hide something, probably in connection with me.

"Sure," was all I said, one eyebrow raised in sign of non-believing. I was sure he knew I didn't believe him but he said nothing anyway.

"Hey, are ya free?" he asked with the easiness of subject changing in his voice. "Zart could use some help. Ya know, since Ben became a Runner, he's missin' a shank. Ain't one Greenie has become a Track-hoe since months."

"I'm havin' a break-day. I'm ought to go sprawling in the grass and search for four-leaved clovers."

Newt grinned. "We both know you're physically unable to do nothing."

I stuck out my tongue, making my brother laugh. "I _was_ going to help him but then you told me to so, no. I won't go with ya."

# # #

"Just to clarify the picture: I came here because I wanted to. It has nothing to do with ya givin' me the puppy eyes. Again," I states huffily as I ambled along the trodden path leading to the gardens from the Deadend. I carried a medium-sized bucket in each hand; they pulled me down to the ground but balanced me perfectly like air sacks on the sides of a boat. Memories struck me like electricity, blurred and unexpected, about endless water and bright blue sky. Before I could've remembered anything in earnest it was over. I didn't cry over it since flashbacks like this were common.

Newt, who carried two quite large and heavy buckets full of fertilizer, laughed smugly. "Betcha! You've never answered my question, though. So, if you'd have to choose someone to go with you to a desert island and survive for a month, who would you choose?"

I looked at the scantily colored sky thoughtfully before answering, "You."

Newt seemed genuinely surprised. "Really?"

"Yep."

"Interesting. I thought you'll say Minho," he said, pouting his lower lip in recognition.

"I love Minho, I really do, but he's unbelievably pessimistic. I don't want to spend a whole month listenin' to Queen Min going into his tantrums."

Newt raised an eyebrow at my explanation. "So you'd choose me because I don't go off the edge?"

"Not as much as Minho does, anyway," I shrugged and swore under my breaths as I stepped into some unidentified, spongy, brown thing. I did not want to waste thought guessing what it could've been. Happy ignorance. "And it's not like I'm not gonna see him anymore."

"Oh, yeah, it is."

"No, it's not. You said 'survive for a month'. That doesn't mean we're not gonna get out."

Newt was speechless for a moment, gaping like a fish before he shook his head, laughing. It was a clear confession of defeat. "Okay, your turn."

I hummed wonderingly. "Would you fall in love with yourself?"

Newt snorted and chuckled at the same time. "What?" He looked purely startled.

"I asked if you'd fall in love with ya'self. That's it."

Newt frowned with a skeptical half-smile. We did the rest of the way back in silence. I was happy to finally get rid off the reeking buckets.

My question seemed to be too hard for Newt as it took him hours to answer it.

# # #

"That was a bloody unfair question!" he snapped at me half-heartedly. I looked at him, stunned and shocked, then at the bowl of stew I just offered to him. We were sitting at the tables at the end of the day, having supper so I wasn't quite expecting this answer.

"Look, if ya don't want stew, it's fine. I saw Gally spittin' into it," I said sitting down next to him, ready to eat my supper, "but you don't have to yell."

"No, I wasn't talkin' 'bout the stew," he frowned and raised his spoon. "Wait, what did Gally do?"

"Don't worry, I would've told you anyway, I just don't want Gally to be suspicious. I did worse to his grub," I grinned proudly. The stew, though without question delicious, was hotter than the moment I opened the door on Minho in the shower accidentally. Well, the first time was an accident, the other dozen I just got addicted. I wasn't feeling like blowing (I swear I've said that before in the past days but I doubt it was about food) so I decided to have a chat with Newt while waiting for the stew to get colder. "So, you were sayin'…?"

"Your question. Ya know, from the afternoon. You asked if I'd fall in love with myself. That was a bloody unfair question!" he grunted and plunged a piece of bread into my stew, chewing at it grumpily like it was a punishment or something.

"Why?" I laughed. Newt looked at me angrily.

"Do you know if you'd fall in love with yourself?"

"Hell yeah, I totally would!"

Newt narrowed his eyes then rolled them. "Sure."

"Hey, I'm not sayin' I'd love myself after I got to know me in depth. Like, I don't know why Minho's stayin' with me…"

"It's not like Minho has any other options," came my boyfriend's voice from behind me. I turned around to see him standing there with his bowl in his hands and a smug, mocking grin on his face. Part of his black hair stuck to his temple with sweat, the rest of it stood on end, sticking up into the air in every possible direction. As he sat down next to me, the pleasant spicy scent of the stew got mixed with the heavy odor of musk, sweat and earth, making me grimace slightly before my nose got used to it.

"Yeah, you don't have better, that's the main reason you're with me. Thanks for remindin' me, you've always been a charmer," I called loudly with my lips primped in mild irritation before I let an innocent smile hover over my lips. "You look _gorgeous_, sweetie! Smell's nice, too."

Minho was never one to turn down an opportunity to quip, especially with me.

"Yeah, I got a new shampoo," he said, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. "It's called 'don't be a sluggard, get up your shucking ass and do your shucking job, shuckface'.

Newt, who was raising his cup to drink, had to laugh so hard he snorted into the cup, pouring his loose shirt down with water. I gave Minho a sharp look which he took with an easy grin. Challenging light flashed in his almond-shaped eyes. Unfortunately, I was tired, even more tired than I was in the morning, so I wasn't in the mood for teasing.

"It must have a really long label to bear all this words."

Minho grinned widely, and through the dulling effect of tiredness, his sardonic and sassy and brawny being filled my heart with eagerness. "So what were you talkin' bout?"

"I asked Newt if he'd fall in love with himself," I answered, spooning my stew relatively fast. "He said it was an unfair question."

"It is!" Newt rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I mean, I'm a guy. I resemble manly characteristics. I would never fall in love with a guy."

"Tell him about it," I pointed at Minho with my spoon.

He grinned like a Cheshire Cat. "Who wouldn't love me? I'm lovely."

I sighed, stood up and patted him on the shoulder. "Yeah, keep sayin' that. It will keep you warm at night."

"Where are you going?" Minho asked with his eyebrows furrowed. "I was thinkin' maybe I could take a shower. With you."

"No, not another shower-incident again!" Newt growled petulantly and head-butted the wooden table. Minho shrugged, looking at his former Runner-partner.

"I never said you should come in."

I took advantage of their outbursting argument and took off, not stopping 'till I reached Chuck. He was sitting alone in the grass, far from the others, eating his stew with a tantalizing kind of sadness on his cute puffy little kid-face. He glanced sideways every now and then, hoping one Glader might decide to keep him company. I did.

"Hey, Chuck," I greeted him with a smile as cheery as I could force it to be. "Mind if I sit?"

He perked up his head, his eyes lighting up with joy as he saw me. "No, of course not."

'How was your day?" I asked as I sat next to him with my legs pulled under me and started to eat the remaining of my stew.

He shrugged carelessly. "Fine. I helped Frypan." Okay, it obviously meant Chuck was in the kitchen all day, eating. "Hey, I've heard a riddle! Do you want to hear it?"

"Sure."

"Why did the boy throw his watch out the window?"

"I don't know."

"He wanted to see the time fly!"

As soon as I got the meaning of the words I smiled in a tired, 'that hurt' way. I shook my head and was about to give something equally painfully not-funny back when Minho turned out of the blue and looked at me with piercing eyes.

"Why did you leave?"

"You two were talkin' too bloody much," I sighed, putting the bowl down to the grass.

Minho looked at Chuck and raised an eyebrow. "And the solution is coming to the annoyingly much talkin' Greenie?"

"I'm here!" Chuck said, waving with his hand. "Right here. And I hear your every word perfectly."

Minho gave him a 'you're not allowed in this conversation' glare which made Chuck suddenly very interested in the grass. He crouched in front of me and put one of his calloused palms against my bare lower leg. "Are you mad at me?"

The way his eyes glistened with some kind of smugly repentance caught me by surprise. "No! Of course I'm not mad at you! Why would you think so?"

"You seem tensed. And you're not in a good mood."

"I'm tired," I laughed and stroked his cheek gently. "_Someone _kept me awake at night."

Minho grinned, looking perfectly pleased with himself and his performance from the night before. "Well, you seemed _needy_ and as the gentleman I am I couldn't just let you deal with it alone. Anyway – it's for you." He pulled out something flat and oblong from behind his back and gave it to me. I had to hold it near the light so actually see it – it was a bar of chocolate, wrapped in aluminum foil. There was no brandmark on it but it had "CHOCOLATE" written on the front.

"What is it?" I asked, amazed and breath taken away. Minho rolled his eyes, the grin never disappearing.

"A baby panda. What do you think?"

I flicked him on the shoulder for his sarcastic answer. "I mean how did it get here? The last time we had chocolate was, like, half a year ago and we had to share it with the others."

"It's a gift, for you. Figured you could bear some happiness in your life," Minho explained, self-satisfied, like a kid waiting for compliments from her mother for his beautiful monster-potato family portrait. "I asked Newt to put it on the list."

I looked up at him, dazed. Realization hit me fast and hard like a train. That was what Alby and Newt were arguing over – I bet it was hard enough to convince Newt to fulfill such personal request. There was this unspoken rule: you either ask for all of the others or you don't ask for anything. There were occasions when Alby would decide it was time for some party and would ask for nonessential things like chips or something like it. Mostly we didn't get them but other times the Creators were nice bastards and let us have some fun. Newt and Alby were the only ones allowed to ask for anything – they mostly asked for indispensable supplies. Newt was the kinder one, though, so I guessed it was easy for Minho to get Newt to sneak the word "chocolate" on the weekly list but it was safer to not tell Alby. Except Alby got to know it, anyway. Shame.

It was only fair to give it back. It wasn't mine – it was all of the Gladers'. And still… I took it from Minho, spinning it around my hands. The pure thought of chocolate made my mouth water.

I looked up at Minho with unshed tears of joy and love blurring my vision and happily enfolded my arms around his neck. I placed affectionate kisses along his jaw, cheeks and in the corner of his mouth before my lips met with his in a thankful kiss. It wasn't deep nor long or too passionate of that matter but it was sweet and simple and honest and it made dizzy enough to forget about how tired I was.

"Thank you, sweetie," I murmured into his neck while he held me close for a split second or two.

"I gave you chocolate. It was a bribe. Now, stop callin' me that." I didn't see his face but I felt he was rolling his eyes. I knew he hated that nickname that's why I called him so. He did violate the 'rules', though, for me so maybe he deserved to let that name slim.

Maybe.

I sat back down and unwrapped the chocolate in no time. I broke off two cubes, pushing one inside Minho's mouth before I threw up the other and caught it with mine. The brown yumminess melted away nearly immediately, caressing my tongue smoothly with heavenly-like sweetness. It felt bloody sinful but fantastic at the same time. In fact, it was so fantastic I quickly ate another cube and another and another until I ate half the bar.

"Slow down, slinthead," Minho laughed with chocolate-spotted teeth. "If you continue eatin' in that manner I might have to roll you all the way to the Homestead."

I looked at him teasingly. "Are ya sayin' I'm fat?"

"Nuff said."

I chuckled gleefully (the chocolate was really working) and I leaned in to gave him another kiss. We met halfway – his lips tasted sweet from the chocolate. Or maybe it was my own taste I felt. Whatever. What I surely knew, though, was that Chuck was still there, trying to look everywhere but at us. I guess he didn't know if he should left or stay, which one would be less embarrassing, so he decided to stay.

I looked at the half-eaten chocolate then at the poor pitiable boy. "Oi!" I called for him. When he looked up, I tossed the remaining chocolate to him, he caught it mid-air and his eyes widened in delightful awe. "'s yours."

Chuck's eyes grew even broader; this time with more happiness and without saying a word he started eating it, humming merrily. "Delicious! Thanks, shank – I mean, buddy… Or pal… Friend…"

He seemed lost about my perfect denomination, but I just waved. "No biggie, little dude."

"Hey!" Minho snapped, looking more than irritated. "You just give it to him? Do you even know what I had to done for it to Newt? I practically _begged_, and I _never_ beg!"

I smirked viciously and stood up, gesturing to Minho to do the same. "Maybe you don't, but I do, sometimes. You know, sweetly." Chuck was too much gone in the syrupy embrace of chocolate to bother us. I was free to imply this and that.

Minho caught up fast and a wide, and a wicked smile made its way to his face. "Yeah, you do?" he asked, stepping closer to me and rested his hands on my hips.

"Yup," I nodded, biting in my lower lip seductively. "But only for you."

"Unfortunately, I can't remember," he sighed dramatically, tingling one of his hands in my ponytail, wrapping a lock around his fingers.

My heart started beating fast as hell as my mind processed what was just happening – and added the possible results based on earlier experiences. "So?" Tempting thrill bristled my nerves as Minho placed a soft, delicate, promising kiss on my neck.

"So we'll have to _vivify_ my memories, most effectively by replaying."

He bit down on the smooth skin alluringly.

"…You were talkin' bout a shower, right?"

* * *

><p><strong>So this was it!<strong>

**To be honest I wrote it for the sake of the happines of one of my friends but in the end I got attached to the fandom. I was thinking maybe I will write some other one-shots, maybe even smut as my friend requested it as well. What do you think? I'd be more than happy to read your suggestions!**

**Thank y'all who've read this! :)**


	3. Author's Note

Hey!

So in case any of you is interested, I've uploaded another one-shot with basically the same backstory. You can find it on my profile page, it's called "There's always hope". Enjoy it! :)

PS: Thanks for all the kind reviews, they all mean a lot to me! 3 :)


	4. Author's Note 2

**Hey!**

**So first of all thank you guys for all the kind reviews and PMs you've sent me. My heart is pratically melted into a whatsit! **

**I've been wondering if I should really write a whole story... What d'ya think? **

**_First question:_****Would you want to read a pre-Thomas one (how Minho and the OC get together and stuff) or one following the events of the Trilogy? **

**Personally, I'm voting for the last one at the moment. I have a lot of ideas (though maybe one day I'll just have enough like I do sometimes, and leave the story unfinished... That's the main reason I'm not sure about writing, I don't want to leave all you guys disappointed) for both. I feel like I should do the second version and I could always just write one-shots regarding the sudden ideas and moments they had shared which I think important. **

**_Second question:_****Obviously, I'll have to name her if I'll do a story. I'm open to any ideas since I haven't figured out a name yet. Plase, if you have some names which are not too 'exotic' (I don't want to name her something like Acacia or stuff) but not too common, either (by common I mean typical OC names like Alex, Raven, etc)**

**You can write the answers in review or send me PMs, I'll be more than overjoyed! Don't be afraid of me, I won't bite. Hard. ;)**

**Thanks in advance and I promise I'll quit posting these stupid author's notes!**

**(Short announcement: yet another one-shot part 1 is up! You can find it under my user profile, named "This is war-" :))**


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